Five Little Things
by Little Miss Molly
Summary: Fives things that never happened...but they could have.


**Title:** Five Little Things  
**Author:** Baka Neko Molly-chan  
**Disclaimer:** The characters are not mine. Nothing more to be said.  
**Summary:** Fives things that never happened...but they could have.  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Notes:**  
I stumbled across the Five Things concept a little while ago, and was instantly intrigued. So, obviously, I decided to attempt it myself. It's basically just what the summary says: five scenes that break away from canon, in varying degrees. - Shrugs - Just...read it. I think you'll understand.

* * *

I. The Boy Who...

A skeletal figure crouched in the shadows of the room, back pressed hard against the rotting wall. Above him, all around him, he could hear their malicious laughter. He kept his senses fully alert; he had hidden in the room they were now tearing apart barely ten minutes ago. They were moving quickly; so often he had escaped being discovered by only a hair. He doubted that sort of luck would last long. It was only a matter of time before they caught up to him.

When? When had it come to this?

Perhaps it began when Albus Dumbledore fell, incinerated instantly by the power of the Dark Lord and his many supporters. From that moment on, no person was safe. The darkness surged a path throughout the entire world, crushing wizards and muggles alike in its wake. All who were given the option to join him did so without a second's hesitation, too torn apart from seeing their friends and families destroyed before their eyes to refuse.

He supposed the ministry had pointed their fingers at him first. It would have been a logical assumption, there was no denying it; but whatever actions they might have been prepared to take were cut short when their empire fell, crushed under the terrible force of the Dark Lord.

More rubble fell from the ceiling, green light flashing through the thin, decaying layer of plaster, and the dark-haired man flinched visibly. They were getting closer. Soon he would have to slip to another part of the building. He was running out of places to hide.

The few people he met now would often wistfully reminisce about the "old days", before the terror had begun. Many then went off on another tangent, wondering aloud when it had all begun. When had their friends turned to the darkness out of fear? When had the sun stopped shining? When had one's own house become a hazard rather then a home? Let them ponder. For he, Sirius Black, knew when it had truely begun. The time could be narrowed down to a single day, fifteen years ago. A single night. Right down to the very hour.

It was the night his best friend, along with his wife and infant son, had died at the hands of Lord Voldemort.

- - -

II. Sisters

Petunia Evans was not unlike the average muggle-born witch. The letter inviting her to attend school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had come entirely as a surprise. In the beginning, her awareness of her inhuman abilities had startled her. But, like all other muggle-borns, she had adapted to it, recognized it as the first time she truly felt natural. In truth, the only thing Petunia felt remotely odd about herself was her once-beloved sister.

Lily never had been exactly overjoyed when Petunia had gone off to Hogwarts. Perhaps she was jealous. Perhaps it something else entirely. But whatever the cause, Lily had completely renounced the existence of her own sister's kind. If their parents so much as brought up the word 'magic', she flew into a fury. Petunia would watch from the sides, filled with regret, grief, guilt, but most prominently, she felt pity.

Truly, she pitied her muggle sister.

- - -

III. Letters

'Stonewall High isn't that bad a place', Harry would tell himself day after day. At least he was away from Dudley. The few members of his gang that had been sent to Stonewall as well were little more then blundering idiots without their master, and for the most part left him alone.

Sometimes, though, he wished that someone would beat him up again, if only for the hope that they would acknowledge his existence. He was a wallflower, a shadow, drifting about hallways idly, noticed by no one. Even the strange occurrences that had plagued him throughout his childhood had mysteriously vanished as of late. Not that he minded, as they'd caused him nothing but trouble. But indeed, without them, life had become exceptionally dull.

The last interesting thing he could remember ever happening was when the house had been bombarded with owls, all attempting to deliver letters. All addressed to him. Uncle Vernon had never allowed him to see even one, though he had been so eager to. After a month, the letters had thinned to a trickle, before stopping entirely.

Sometimes, curled up against the wall of his cupboard, Harry wondered what had been in those letters.

- - -

IV. Mercy

Rubeus Hagrid only ever killed out of mercy.

He knew what it was like to be a half-breed. It was a life lived entirely in pain. And if they were allowed to continue with their existence, his victims would all live the same life he was doomed to. Muggle-borns would never be completely accepted by society. They would always be shunned. In killing them, letting Aragog pursue his natural instincts, he was freeing them from this world of pain. Dead was dead, after all; discrimination did not linger in the grave.

He paused in his thoughts. A noise in the background had stopped. Before he could dwell too much on what it was, the door to one of the stalls opened, and a girl emerged. A short, dumpy-looking girl, a rather thick pair of glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, fogged up slightly from crying.

It was a mercy killing. Really.

- - -

V. Best Friends

Harry Potter had a heart that was black. He had a smile that both charmed and chilled the ladies. His green eyes were lit with a cold light that struck fear into the hearts of all, including his fellow Slytherins. Even the teachers seemed intimidated. Whisperings darted about behind his back, only to be silenced with a look. That was truly all it took from Potter to chill another into silence - a look. An icy frost seemed to follow him down corridors, immobilizing anything within range. Some said he controlled the school.

Oh, there had been those to stand up to him, of course. Most memorably the red-haired Gryffindor boy, who had lost his short temper and attacked Potter. Onlookers still shudder at the memory of the outcome. When asked by teachers, they could only whisper quietly about "him", the one who they believed sought to become more powerful then He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

They never admitted it was he, though. No one ever did, for fear of incurring his wrath.

They said he hadn't always been like this. That he had come to Hogwarts five years ago far too hesitant, too insecure, too eager to attach to anyone who might help him. It was only a cruel twist of fate that he met who he did first. And the first one he happened to meet was the one who had influenced him into becoming the way he was. The only student in the school unafraid of Potter's nature. His best friend.

Draco Malfoy.


End file.
